


Starlings in Winter

by Macdragon



Category: Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macdragon/pseuds/Macdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A consideration of what may have happened in between "Swordspoint" and "The Privilege of the Sword." As Richard's eyesight deteriorates, Alec is forced to hire a new swordsman. Attempting to cheer him up, Alec suggests a trip to Highcombe, but things do not go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starlings in Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyghtertale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyghtertale/gifts).



> Thank you to vae for the beta!

_Chunky and noisy,_  
 _but with stars in their black feathers,_  
 _they spring from the telephone wire_  
 _and instantly_  
 _they are acrobats_  
 _in the freezing wind._

_...Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,_  
 _even in the leafless winter,_  
 _even in the ashy city._  
 _I am thinking now_  
 _of grief, and of getting past it;_  
 _I feel my boots_  
 _trying to leave the ground,_  
 _I feel my heart_  
 _pumping hard. I want_  
 _to think again of dangerous and noble things._

~Starlings in Winter, Mary Oliver

* * *

    

It was the coldest winter on record.

            A persistent chill was one thing. Then you complained, griping about the hassle as you pulled on your hat and gloves, the nip in the air more like a convenient topic of conversation with passers by than a true bother. In this kind of cold, you were more likely to sit down in the snow and cry, convinced that warmth was merely a figment of the imagination. More than one frozen corpse had already been found in Riverside; Rosalie was offering her kitchen floor as an emergency place to sleep.

            On the Hill, however, things proceeded as normal, just with more fire and fur. In fact, tonight Alec was supposed to make an appearance at the premier of a new play, and he was dragging Richard along. Richard thought that Alec looked resplendent in his mink lined red cloak, but Alec wouldn’t stop grumbling about the weight on his shoulders, and he squirmed through the entire carriage ride, telling Richard all about how his wool scarf was itchy, tight, and tangling with his hair. There were beggars outside the theater, and Alec dropped the scarf off with one of them. “Good riddance, I never liked the thing.”

            As for the cloak, and Richard’s much plainer brown jacket, both were stowed in the full-to-bursting coatroom. Richard told them that he would be keeping his sword on him, thank you very much, and at this point they knew him well enough not to protest.

            The theater was stuffed too, with nobles eager to get out of their Houses for the first time in days. The audience was abuzz with chatter, but Richard and Alec moved quietly to their balcony booth, where they sat alone.

            Richard pulled his chair up to the edge, leaning his elbows on the bannister as he looked down at the stage.

            “Careful, you’ll fall down, and there’s hardly anyone to catch you,” Alec said, leaning back in his own chair and clutching the cup of chocolate that a servant had brought as soon as they arrived. The lower level of the theater, usually reserved for Riversiders who had bought cheap tickets, was nearly empty. The rest of the audience was congregated in the upper level booths, their loud laughter filtering to their own.

            “Let’s hope the actors speak up, then.”

            “Are you getting old? You can’t see, you can’t hear…”

            Richard glanced back at him, frowning. “I can hear perfectly well.”

            Before Alec could press the issue further, the house lights went down. The bulk of the conversation died down as well, although loud whispers could still be heard from the nearest booth, as well as muffled giggling. Alec dragged his chair up beside Richard’s, which gave him a better angle to glare at the neighbors.

            As it turned out, the play was comically horrible. The acting was wooden, the plot was dull, and the writing was pretentious. Alec almost nodded off halfway through, and had to rely on Richard to nudge him awake and keep him from making a fool of himself. Falling asleep at a play would be far from the most scandalous thing he had ever done, but with the city slowed down by the weather, news was thin on the ground. Alec didn't mind the gossip so much, but Richard disliked the attention.

            “Maybe it’s just as well I can’t make out half of what is going on,” Richard said ruefully, once intermission had arrived.

            “Your eyes just need a rest.” Alec touched Richard’s arm lightly, leaning in a little. “In fact, I am feeling exhausted myself. Perhaps we should excuse ourselves. I can think of a few more interesting diversions.” He smiled wickedly, and that was enough to persuade Richard to leave. They hurried out, ignoring the curious glances of the other theatergoers as they walked out the door.

            It had grown dark while they were in the theater, and it was even colder than before.  They walked briskly to the carriage, shoulder to shoulder.

“I am _aching_ to get out of these furs,” Alec purred, tugging Richard into the carriage after him. The only good thing about winter was that warming up could be so much fun.

 

 

***

 

            Despite efforts to hide it, Richard’s failing eyesight was an ever-present beast. Alec made light of it, but it pained him to see Richard fumble into doorways or trip over things that had been left underfoot. He had always felt like the clumsy one, awkward with his long limbs, while Richard was the paradigm of grace. Now, he was the one who had to nudge Richard away from obstacles in the street. They had not been back to the theater again, since Richard wasn’t able to see what was going on. Attendance at musical performances had increased as Tremontaine had apparently decided that this was more stylish than plays.

            Alec didn’t tell Richard that he had scheduled a doctor’s visit, correctly assuming that Richard would protest an examination.

            “Doctor Deavorie is the most advanced physician in the study of optometry,” Alec assured Richard over breakfast the morning of the appointment.

            “So if he can’t find a solution, no one can?” Richard viciously stabbed a potato with his fork.

            “Don’t be so cynical. And please be polite when the doctor gets here.” Alec smiled at him across the table. In reality, he was terrified of exactly what Richard had pointed out. Surely, though, there was a cure. Alec was ready to employ the entirety of the University in the pursuit of whatever suggestions Doctor Deavorie made.

            During the exam, Richard tried hard to be well behaved. His hands were curled tight around the arms of the chair, just one decision away from punching the doctor in his pert nose. He focused on Alec, who was evidently feeling ill at the sight of the doctor poking and prodding Richard, his face pale and green around the edges.

            Once the doctor had finished, Alec quickly herded the doctor away into the next room, shutting the door. Richard suspected that Alec was eager to keep the complete results of the exam from him, which normally would have been a sore point, but at the moment his skin was still crawling from the experience of letting someone get that close to him, even poke him with metal objects, without being given the opportunity to stab him.

            It wasn’t long before he heard Alec’s raised voice, and then something shattered. Doctor Deavorie hurried out the door, looking flustered.

            “So, I’m blind. There’s no going back,” Richard guessed.

            The doctor paused, then nodded. “I’m afraid so. Still, this is a common enough ailment, caused by pressure behind the eyes. It won’t affect anything else, and with time you’ll get used to moving without seeing well. Especially, I suppose, considering your previous occupation. You’ll still be able to live a long and happy life.”

            “Thank you.” Richard nodded and stood. “You can go now. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he remembers to pay you eventually.”

            He left the doctor and went into the office. Alec was standing among the ruins of a vase, contemplating one of the shards in his hand with a familiar, dangerous look in his eye, half fury and half stark fear.

            “Alec.” Richard put an arm around his shoulders, trying to draw him away. “Did you hear what the doctor said? I’ll be fine. I’m not dying.”

            Alec shook under his hands, either with rage or repressed tears, Richard wasn’t sure. “It would be easier that way. Then you could kill me first, and we’d be sure of going together.”

            “Alec, please. It will be better this way. I think I’ll retire completely, no matter how tempting a commission sounds. I can’t keep fighting like this. We can spend time together. Maybe we’ll take a vacation.”

            “To the country?” Alec sneered. Richard relaxed, glad to hear the scoff in Alec’s voice; that meant he had let go of the wildness, at least for now. He took the piece of pottery from Alec’s hand, setting it on the desk.

            “The country might be nice.” And Richard managed to lead Alec away, leaving the broken vase where it lay.                   

 

***

 

 

 

            The Midwinter Ball at Tremontaine House was set to be the most sumptuous event of the season. The Great Hall had been decorated from floor to ceiling with streamers, pine and holly wreathes, and white and silver paper lanterns. There was a table heaped with cakes, pastries, custards, candied fruit, and chocolates, and those were just the first course. So far, everyone seemed to be having a grand time milling around, exclaiming at the decorations and trading gossip, all on tenterhooks waiting for something truly scandalous to happen. Alec, of course, did not plan to disappoint.

             Excusing himself from a pair of air headed young ladies who had been desperate to obtain his opinion on the new style of peplum jackets, Alec went to the refreshments table, piling his plate with a generous second helping of iced tea cakes.

            “I think you’ve had enough of those already.” Richard said, slipping up beside him.

            “What makes your say that?” Alec pouted.

            “You made yourself sick last time, remember?”

            “Right.” Alec put his plate down, turning around. “You look troubled. What happened?”

            “I was just in the hall, trying to take a break from the crowd, and I saw Daisy running past with her clothes all askew, sobbing, and that Lord Maxwell looking smugly after her.”

            “Remind me who Daisy is?”

            “The new kitchen maid. Red hair. You met her last week.”

            “Ah. And Lord Maxwell? You’re quite certain?”

            “I may be blind, Alec, but I know what I saw just now.”

            Alec’s lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “I think I’ll challenge him. I haven’t done enough to shock people tonight, anyway.”

            “Shall I have my sword ready?” Richard asked dryly.

            Alec’s smile faded. “Don’t trouble yourself over such a petty fight. Maybe I’ll try hiring someone new. I’m sure Lord Maxwell doesn’t know heads or tails of swordsmen—well, maybe tails—but it will be easy to find someone to best his choice.”

            “You’d give up on me so easily? Alec, I know I said I was retiring, but maybe not yet, and this will be so simple, just like you said...”

            “Richard, don’t.” Alec’s voice was cold and flat, his green eyes hard.  “Look, there’s Lord Maxwell now.” He swept away, picking up a glass of champagne from a servant’s tray on the way across the room, leaving Richard to stare after him until he was just a blur of color.

            Lord Maxwell was chatting with the same girls Alec had just been speaking with, and they were hanging on his every word. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I have something important to tell Lord Maxwell,” Alec said, situation himself between them.

            The Lord’s face flushed slightly. He was a large man, and the pinkening of his cheeks made him look even more porcine. He was at least twice the size of Alec, but nervousness was obvious in his expression as he faced his host.

            “Lord Maxwell—“ Alec’s voice rang out, and people turned, excitement crackling through the air. They weren’t sure what Maxwell had done, but it didn’t matter; this was the moment they had been anticipating. “I challenge you to a duel of honor,” Alec stated, once he had everyone’s attention. The girls beside squealed in delight, and Alec fought to keep the neutral expression on his face.

            “Why? I—I haven’t done anything!” Maxwell blubbered, sweat glistening on his forehead.

            “According to a reliable source, you have treated a Miss Daisy, a kitchen maid in my service, dishonorably this evening.”

            He could hear Maxwell’s sharp intake of breath. “She’s just a girl!” he hissed, trying in vain to keep his voice from reaching the now silent observers.

            “She is not a girl. She is a member of Tremontaine House, and an offense against her is an offense against me. Don’t worry, the challenge won’t happen now, although I’m sure I could finish you off with just a few more of those pastries. You know how it works, don’t you? We both choose a swordsman, and they fight. I suppose first blood would be sufficient, if you agree.”

            “This is ridiculous!” Maxwell raged. “Everyone knows your pet swordsman will beat anyone else who goes against him! Should I just forfeit now?” There was a vein bulging in his temple, and Alec was finding it difficult to remain standing so close to him.

            “For amusement’s sake, this time I’ll choose another swordsman.” He met Maxwell’s eyes coolly, adding quietly, “And he’s not a pet.”

            A small man in the robes and long hair of a scholar pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Fascinating! Lord Maxwell, you should count yourself lucky! You know, in less than a century, swordsmen will be as mythical as the kings are now!"

            Alec stepped back from Lord Maxwell. “Doctor Tortua, why don’t you tell me more about that?  Lord Maxwell, do let me know when you want the duel to happen.” Alec moved off to talk to Doctor Tortua, who seemed oblivious to the political implications of what had just happened, and the crowd realized that this was meant to be a dismissal and went off to their separate corners to discuss.

            Lord Maxwell made his exit soon after, but the damage had been done. Not only would he lose the duel; he would also become the butt of jokes for the rest of the season, as nobles snickered to each other about not letting Lord Maxwell go unattended around the servants.

            Alec should have been ridiculously pleased with himself, but that night, after all the guests had long gone home, Richard waited in an empty bed, growing cold as the fire began to dwindle down to embers. Finally he rose and walked down to the library.

            “I thought I would find you here.”

            Alec was seated in front of the fire, a torn up book in his lap. He was shredding a page in his hands, flicking bits of paper into the hearth. Drawing closer, Richard saw that it was a medical text, one he had looked at before. The words were far above his comprehension, but the diagrams were gruesome enough to be interesting.

            “Tearing up the information won’t get rid of the facts,” Richard said, crouching down beside Alec. He touched Alec’s hand, and found it cold despite being so close to the blazing fire. “Come to bed. You’re chilled and exhausted.”

            “Don’t tell me how I feel, Richard.” Alec crumpled up the page and tossed the rest of it into the flames.

            “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. You’re right, if I’m going to retire, there’s no sense putting it off. It’s just a lot to take in. I never even expected to have a future, I always thought I would die young, in a fight…Alec, are you listening to me?”

            Alec turned to look at him, his eyes red-rimmed. “Yes, I am. What are you going to do now? Are you satisfied being my pet?”

            “All these years, and still you doubt me? I want to be with you.” He wanted to take Alec into his arms, but every line of Alec’s tense body spoke refusal. “Perhaps I’ll take up teaching.” Still, even as he said it, he hated the idea. Teaching was for failed swordsmen, like the ones who had lost their limbs, but not died, or others who had simply fallen off the top of their game.

            “Perhaps,” Alec echoed, the single word laced with venom. Richard stood up. “I’ll be in bed.” Please, don’t hurt yourself, he thought, but didn’t say. As he walked out, Alec started tearing another page out of the book. Richard left him there in front of the fire, like so many times before.

 

 

***

 

            Breakfast was spiced tea, hearty biscuits, and dainty little pastries. A few weeks had passed since the Midwinter Ball. The city was frozen in another long cold spell, and Alec was beginning to feel restless. He knew that he should be content curling up by the fire with Richard, but he was itching to make trouble again.

            He glanced up as a server brought in a fresh pot of tea, along with the morning papers.

            “I can’t imagine what headlines they could come up with when the city is this dead,” Alec scowled, swiping the first paper off of the tray. “Why doesn’t Riverside have it’s own newspaper? I’m sure interesting things are still happening /there/...”

            He trailed off, pursing his lips. Folding the paper in half, he set it face down and picked up the teapot instead. “More tea, Richard?”

            “What? What does it say? I know that look…” Richard reached out, and Alec tried to stop him, but he was much too fast.

            “You can’t read it anyway,” Alec said, crushing a half-eaten biscuit with his fork. “Give it back.”

            Richard frowned at him across the table. It was true; even if the words weren’t blurry, he wouldn’t understand them. “Tell me what it says,” he repeated. “I can’t imagine what’s got you upset, after all the other things they’ve reported about you…”

            “It’s not about me. It’s about you, Richard.” Alec set the fork down, and it clanged loudly against the china plate. “They’re commenting on your curious absence from fighting…I told you they don’t have anything interesting to report,  they’re grasping at anything.”

            “No. No, I knew it would come to this. What did they write? That I’m useless, an old man, the duke’s aging lapdog…”

            “Richard, please.” Rising, Alec walked around the table and stood behind Richard, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Nothing they say matters. Same as the horrible things they say about me. It’s just a gossip rag.” He slid his fingers to the back of Richard’s neck, massaging the tense muscles. As soon as Richard had relaxed, he snatched the paper back, strode over to the fireplace, and threw it in.

            “Maybe we should take that holiday in the country,” Alec said as he watched the newsprint turn to ash.

            “Now? The roads are impossible.”

            “It will be an adventure.” There was a note of determination in Alec’s voice that decided the matter.

 

***

 

            The very next day, they left for Highcombe. Normally, Richard would have protested Alec’s absurd demand to brave the roads in the middle of a blizzard, but he was so eager to leave the city and its bustle that he allowed Alec to employ all of his Lordly power to get them there.

            The staff was surprised to see them, and full of apologies about the state of the house. Now that they were here, Alec no longer had any need to bully the underlings, and he told everyone that it was all right and to go to bed. He and Richard did the same. The tray of provisions the cook left beside their door was left uneaten; she supposed that they were too exhausted from their journey to dine.

            The morning dawned clear and bright. Looking out from the window of the cozy bedroom, Alec thought that the blanket of white was beautiful, but he was grateful not to have to be out in it. “I’m fine right here,” he murmured, leaning back against Richard, who came to stand behind him. “Hmm, maybe it’s not quite time to get out of bed yet.”

            The country quiet was charming—for now.

             “Best training I’ve had in weeks,” Richard told Alec enthusiastically, a few days after their arrival. Alec had been trying to read, and now he was watching Richard pace the length of the library, still alive with energy.

            “Nothing here to fight but cows and chickens, though,” Alec said, slowly turning another page in his book. “And they’re all hibernating, probably.”

            “Livestock don’t hibernate…we should take a tour of the grounds and see them. I’d like to find out what this place really looks like, not just what we can see from the windows. It’s warmer today, it will be nice.”

            Alec sighed, but soon he and Richard were emerging from the house bundled up in heavy coats, woolen scarves, and bulky mittens, things that Alec never would have even thought of wearing if they were still in the city.

            “Well, here we are.” Alec looked out on the bland landscape. No signs, no shop windows, no people—-it was all terribly dull.

            “Isn’t it lovely?” Richard took his arm. “It must be perfect in the Summer. You know, you should tell the staff to start with bees, I think it would be an excellent place for it…”

            Alec nodded and made listening noises as they walked and Richard rambled on about the potential of Highcombe, an inconsequential property that Alec had never given a second thought to in his life. “You can have it if you’d like. It will be your little project. Come on, let’s go back inside. It’s not warmer today; I’m freezing.”

 

***

 

            Alec couldn’t remember how long they had been here. More than a week, and the days were blending together. He and Richard lay curled together and listened to the howling of the wind outside. Another storm was starting up.

            “We’ll be snowed in for another few days,” Richard said, sounding hopeful.

            “Wonderful. I’m bored.” Alec twisted away from Richard, reclaiming his limbs. “I don’t understand how you’re still enjoying yourself.”

            “It’s not just about having fun.” Richard propped himself on an elbow, his eyes wide and almost childishly innocent as he looked down at Alec. “I’m content here.”

            “Why can’t you be content in the city?”

            “It’s so fast, Alec. Here, it doesn’t matter so much about my eyesight, when I can move slowly through the world.”

            “You used to be one of the fastest things in Riverside.”

            Richard sighed. “It’s mostly the people, though.”

            Alec rolled over, feigning sleep.

 

***

 

            Alec began to avoid Richard, as much as he could considering that the house was small and they were the sole occupants aside from the staff. He knew that driving Richard away would do nothing to help the predicament he could see approaching, but he was angry and hurt, and maybe he was preparing himself for the inevitable.

            He stared out the bedroom window, watching Richard making his way back from another of his long walks. When Richard looked up, Alec closed the curtain.

            A few minutes later, Richard appeared in the door. “They’re about to serve lunch. Why don’t you join me? You already skipped breakfast.”

            “I’m not hungry.” Alec pouted at him. “You’re dripping all over the carpet.”

            “I’ll go take them off.”

            He vanished again. Alec continued to sulk for a while before heading to the dining room, against his better judgment. Richard was already halfway through a bowl of stew.

            “Morris says the snow will clear by the end of the week,” Richard said, once Alec had served himself.

            “We’ll leave then,” Alec said flatly.

            “Oh.” Richard set his spoon down.

            “You’re disappointed?”

            “You know I like it here.”

            Alec twisted a corner of the napkin between his fingers. “This seems to have gone over entirely too well. I’m beginning to think you’d prefer Highcombe over me, given the choice. You can’t bear the thought of going back to the city, can you? Too bad, I’m going, so there’s your choice.”

            He could see the muscles in Richard’s jaw tighten. “Well?” Alec pressed.

            “Alec, this is good for you too. It’s not just about me, I’m not sure you should go back just yet either…”     

            “Can’t you see how bored I am? Richard, I’m dying.”

            “Alec, you’re not…fine, I’ll play this game. Yes, you love the city so very much, and I’m sure you’ll thrive there. You don’t need me by your side all the time.”

            It felt like someone had taken a ball of snow from outside and shoved it down into his heart. “You’re right, I don’t need you.” Alec stood. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

            “Alec, at least wait until the roads are a bit more clear…” Richard was alarmed now, and Alec smiled.

            “We got here in a blizzard, and I can get out in one. Enjoy Highcombe, my gift to you. Be sure to write.”

            “Alec, please, this isn’t final, I just need a break…” But Alec was already storming out of the room. And Richard couldn’t find him for the rest of the day; he must have found some childhood hiding spot to sulk in. By the next morning, however, Alec’s things were gone from the bedroom.

            Richard didn’t even know if he made it back to the city alive until several days later, when he received a terse letter, not even written in Alec’s own hand, but dictated to a servant. He had the groundskeeper, Morris, read it out to him.

            It was Alec’s own peculiar brand of cruelty. Richard could only wait for the thaw, holding out for signs of spring. “Morris, before you leave, I’d like to talk to you about bees…”

 

***

 

            Daisy was busy starting the broth for dinner. She took no notice of the footsteps coming down the stairs, assuming it was another staff member. When she turned around and saw the duke looming over her, she let out a squeak of surprise.

            “Hello, Daisy. I’m sorry I startled you.”

            “It’s all right, sir.” Daisy dropped into a curtsy, trying hard not to stare too openly at the duke. Although she would never voice such a criticism out loud, he looked terrible. He’d lost weight, even though they were certainly feeding him enough, and there were dark circles under his eyes. “What can I do for you, my lord?”

            “May I see the menu for tonight?”

            “Of course.” Daisy hurried to fetch the list, certain that something had been amiss last night. “We can change anything you need…”

            The duke barely glanced at the menu. “Yes. Get rid of all this—you can eat what you’ve already made yourself—but I want everything replaced with sweets. Cakes, pastries, puddings, whatever you want. Just make it as rich as possible.” He smiled and crumpled up the menu before placing it back in her hand.

            “Y-yes, sir,” Daisy said, curtsying again for good measure.

            “Very good.” The duke swept out of the kitchen as suddenly as he had come.

            The head cook entered a moment later. “The duke wants us to make all desserts for dinner, what should we do?” Daisy asked, still in disbelief.

            “We’ll do it, of course!” The cook pulled on her apron, ready to get to work.

            Daisy shook her head. “He’s going to make himself sick.”

            “Then we’ll let him. Don’t worry yourself about his whims. The duke’s a bit mad, but you already know he’s a good man, so we do what he asks. Hurry, now, we have baking to do!”

            The range kept the cooks warm as they baked, sheltered from the winter outside. Daisy hoped that some of the warmth and sweet smell would reach the Duke upstairs, haunting his lonely library. It wasn’t good for a man to be so lonely, even if he was mad.


End file.
